


Same

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Food Service, Fast Food, Flirting, Genderfluid Dean Winchester, Love Triangles, M/M, Two Person Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: It's the summer of love (triangles) for Cas, who has fallen hard for not one, but two stunning people who frequent Oh Sweet Heaven Drive-In. How can he possibly choose between them?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 84
Kudos: 217
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanDMonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanDMonic/gifts).



> Based on this prompt: A romantic comedy where a girl meets a guy and really likes him, then later on meets a girl she also likes and she is tearing herself up trying to choose between the two, only to find out in the end that they were the same, genderfluid person.
> 
> Thank you Dean D'Monic, for putting *another* idea in my brain that resulted in 9 solid hours of writing by hand and another 4 at my computer. Once I get my beauty sleep and a percolator full of coffee into my system I'm coming after you.
> 
> This is unbeta'd. All sleep-deprived mistakes are my own. Bone apple tit.
> 
> Note: Dean is genderfluid in this story and uses he/him and she/her pronouns depending on the day. Cas works at a drive-in fast food restaurant. In real life, please do not hit on people in the service industry. I will find you and I will kill you slowly.
> 
> I joke about not sleeping but I really did enjoy writing this. The premise is so fun and it was challenging for me. I'm used to seeing genderfluid!Cas in fanfic so exploring genderfluid!Dean was refreshing and different. I hope you like it!

Up until five minutes ago, the most interesting part of Cas’ job has been dodging reckless drivers while roller-skating milkshakes to cars at the drive-in. It’s Free Fries Thursday, so an influx of hungry customers is to be expected.

What he doesn’t expect is a pair of green eyes that nearly knocks him off his feet… or skates, as it were.

It’s at this moment Cas really, really wishes Oh Sweet Heaven Drive-In took names instead of assigning impersonal order numbers, so he can put a name to the handsome face ordering a raspberry pie shake along with his free fries, instead of going to bed thinking about Order 8754.

He can wish all he wants but alas, carhops can’t be choosers.

“Order number 8754,” he reads off of the receipt in an effort to stop staring and hide the red in his cheeks. Those green eyes are sucking him in and tonight is not the night to get tripped up by a handsome face. Not while he has four pending orders inside and plenty of cars that haven’t ordered yet.

“That’s me,” the man confirms from inside his car, hand extending towards the milkshake.

His rough voice stirs something else in Cas, which he promptly dismisses as he hands off the shake and small paper bag. He’s looking at his own skates now, hoping that by averting his eyes he can keep his blush down to a minimum.

“Thanks… Cas,” the green-eyed man reads from the receipt, smiling. “You mix it yourself?”

“Uh huh,” he confirms with a swallow. “Have a good night, sir.”

“Wait,” the man halts him. He puts his shake in a cupholder and the bag of fries in the passenger seat.

Cas fidgets with the change dispenser hanging from his belt. He needs to get back inside, away from this unfairly attractive man, where he isn’t at a total loss for words and breaking out in stress sweat.

Sudden movement from Green Eyes startles Cas back into the present. It’s money. The man is handing him money.

Two whole dollars to be exact.

“Oh, um,” Cas sputters. This customer already paid with his card when he placed his order, so this is obviously a tip. “That’s — that’s… Thank you. That’s very —”

“Anybody who can skate like that should be makin’ a little extra,” the man says with a quick glance down at Cas’ roller-skates, then smiles again before putting his car in reverse.

“Okay,” is all Cas can think to say as the man’s bright smile replays in his head. By the time he remembers himself, the man and his car are gone, and he’s standing in front of an empty drive-in spot like a fool.

He pockets the two dollars and skates back inside. After a deep, cleansing breath, he takes a look at the order screen, forcing himself back to reality. Anna hands him a large paper bag and a cup holder with three drinks. Back to business.

**_— Exactly one week later —_ **

“Order up,” Samandriel says above the sizzle of the kitchen fryer.

Cas turns his attention to the paper bag his workmate just set on the counter separating the front line from the back. “Thank you,” he offers before taking the bag.

Anna grabs some salt packets off the counter and leans in to speak to Cas. “You don’t have to thank the back line every time they make an order, you know.”

“Without them, we would have no food to give the customers,” Cas states thoughtfully.

“And without us,” Anna replies, “they would have no orders to cook.”

“Precisely. It’s a team effort.”

Anna doesn’t have an answer for that, and gets out of Cas’ way when he clunk-walks in skates across the rubber floor towards the door. The relationship between kitchen and customer-facing employees will always be complicated to say the least, but Cas knows better than to bark orders across that counter without expressing gratitude in equal measure.

By the time Cas takes care of that order and comes back inside, Anna is nowhere to be seen; most likely texting in the bathroom. The next order up is supposed to be hers, but it will get cold if he waits for her.

“Thanks Samandriel,” he says as he grabs what’s on the counter — a small paper bag and a milkshake. It might be the hundredth small bag and milkshake Cas has skated outside today.

“Order 4165,” he reads off the receipt before lowering it to see the person inside the car. That might’ve proven to be a mistake, because the bright-eyed beauty awaiting her order was knocking the wind out of him.

What hits him first is her eyes, so sparkly and serenely green, framed by long lashes and the most darling rosy cheeks. She has long blonde hair and a killer smile.

“Thank you, Cas,” she says, and before he can think, she replaces the bag and milkshake in his hands with two folded dollar bills.

He doesn’t look at what she just shoved into his hands. He doesn’t even register that anything is there. All he sees is her. He really should close his mouth.

She had even used his name. It sounds nice coming from her. It’s not that strange for customers to read his nametag or their receipt, but it usually makes Cas grumble and scurry back inside rolling his eyes. This person, he definitely doesn’t mind using his name.

“You’re welcome,” he finally gets out, but not before the customer has rolled her window back up and put her car in reverse. He should work on his timing.

Cas finally glances down at what she had handed him. A two dollar tip.

**_— Exactly one week later —_ **

On the next Free Fries Thursday of the summer, Anna begins to notice a pattern. She’s outside car-hopping the next time one of two of Cas’ crushes rolls into the drive-in. She notices Cas turn red as he hands off a milkshake and fries in a small bag to a guy in a muscle car. She raises her brows in interest as Cas stumbles over his words as the guy backs his car up to leave.

“You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend,” she teases once they both return inside.

“I don’t,” Cas retorts as he clunk-walks across the floor in skates.

“Shame,” she sighs. “He’s got nice wheels.”

Cas has never even once noticed the man’s car. Not really his area of interest. He’s too focused on those candy apple green eyes. Same with the lady. He must have a thing for green eyes.

**_— Exactly one week later —_ **

Anna definitely catches Cas tripping on his roller-skates after serving a blonde her shake and free fries. One brow shoots up as Cas fidgets with the generous two dollar tip she gives him. Anna grins as he skates back inside.

“A girlfriend, too? Wow,” she notes from her position at the counter.

“No,” Cas insists a little too quickly. He can’t make the red in his cheeks go away. He really is an obvious, crush-stricken fool.

“Hey, players gonna play,” she says with an indifferent shrug. “I don’t judge.”

“Who’s a player?” Samandriel pipes up from the kitchen. He pulls a basket of fried pickles from the fryer and shakes out the excess grease.

“Nobody,” Cas replies promptly before taking the order on the counter. “Thank you, Samandriel.”

Anna is sporting a close-mouthed smile paired with mischievous eyes. She’s waiting for Cas to disappear outside so she can gossip about him, Cas is sure of it.

With an aggravated huff, Cas pushes the door open and skates to the next car.


	2. Chapter 2

Only a handful of weeks remain of the summer, which Cas has never been so sad about. Summer’s end means no more Free Fries Thursday, which he normally wouldn’t mourn, but that’s the only day of the week the handsome green-eyed man and pretty green-eyed lady come. After a summer full of orders, he’s gotten their visits down to a science.

Sometimes they alternate. Sometimes he will visit two weeks in a row. Other times she will. Cas doesn’t particularly care which one he sees any given week; only that he gets to see one of the two. They are equally stunning.

“You should ask one of them out,” Anna suggests out of the blue one Thursday.

“But I like them both,” Cas responds, a bit forlorn at the thought of having to choose only one.

“Which one will win his heart?” she says like she’s reading the synopsis of a schmoopy romcom. “The bad boy with a classic car, or the gorgeous blonde… also with a classic car?”

Cas’ brows furrow at the strange observation. After all those visits, he still can’t say what sort of car either of his crushes drive, and he thinks it a bit pointless to pay attention to such a detail this late in the summer.

He is mere weeks away from never seeing either one again, anyway.

“They both won my heart,” he murmurs like a lovesick puppy.

“But if you had to choose one,” Samandriel begins to ask on his way into the back, tying an apron around his waist.

“Don’t,” Cas stops him. “That’s not fair.”

He’s not sure why Samandriel’s question bothers him so much. His workmates both seem to think this whole situation is rather funny; maybe Cas should lighten up. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t take advice from a back line worker who microwaves random objects just to see what happens, or a front line worker who disappears into the bathroom with her phone as soon as rush hour begins.

“Those fries are getting cold,” Anna prompts, nudging Cas out of his thoughts.

He grabs the paper bag and milkshake off the counter. Maybe skating this order out will help get his mind off things. Having his affections split two ways is exhausting, but he can’t bear the thought of picking one and dropping the other.

Over the course of the summer he’s learned little things about them that makes him fall for them even harder. The handsome man with sandy hair and a chiseled jaw likes flannel shirts. The woman always wears the same heart necklace. They both listen to classic rock when waiting for their food.

Cas’ heart skips a beat when he sees the blonde waiting in the drive-in spot. She’s wearing a different shade of lipstick this week. The pink brings out her green eyes more than Cas thinks is possible.

“Uh,” he stammers when he notices her noticing  _ him  _ noticing  _ her _ . She’s smiling at him. Cas gulps. “Order 1333?”

“Only halfway evil,” she jokes before taking her order out of Cas’ hands.

“Heh,” Cas huffs. Ah, because 333 is half of 666. He gets it.

Something about the phrase “halfway evil” reminds him of a comment Anna made about a “bad boy with a classic car” and for the first time, Cas takes a glance at the woman’s vehicle. It’s dark every time either of his favorite customers visit, so it’s hard to make out, but by the looks of it, she’s driving something shiny and black. Cas is unsure of the make and model from where he stands, but it’s got that vintage look about it.

“You like cars?” she asks, noticing his stare.

“I like yours,” he answers honestly. “Never really given them much thought before, though.”

She blows a laugh out of her nose. “This is the part where you joke about going for a ride and ask how many horses she’s got.”

Cas feels a little embarrassed about missing out on the opportunity to flirt that this woman literally dropped in his lap. “Oh. Uh… how many horses?”

She full-on laughs. “You’re cute, you know that?”

Cas’ cheeks flush bright red.

His lady crush hands him two dollars, just like she always does. “Take it easy, Cas.”

He can’t help the smile that pushes to the surface. Oh, he isn’t going to be able to stop thinking about this for the rest of the night. He’s going to randomly smile in the middle of work and Anna will have questions.

He’s doomed.

**_— Exactly one week later —_ **

And here he is thinking nothing could break him out of the reverie of his and the girl’s interaction the week before. He is wrong. So very wrong.

That hunk is back for his usual.

Cas’ heart flutters a little when he skates out and realizes who it is. It’s probably unprofessional to smile and blush while car-hopping to his crush, but he can’t help it. The man is smiling back at him, too.

Something about the way the light hits his car draws Cas’ eyes down. This car is also back, shiny, and older. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they were the exact same car. But that would be such an odd possibility. Lots of folks drive black cars.

“She’s a ‘67 Impala,” the man volunteers when he sees Cas looking.

Cas has no idea what that means, but it’s attractive, as cars go. Mostly on account of the driver, of course. He’s certain this is his chance to make conversation, but he knows next to nothing about cars, besides what the lady last week told him. Something about horsepower and going for a ride.

He’s also not sure why car people refer to their vehicles with feminine pronouns, but he figures it’s polite to follow suite. “She looks… nice,” he says, obviously unsure of himself.

“She’d look nicer with you in the passenger seat,” the handsome man replies without missing a beat.

Now, that sort of advance isn’t something just any customer can get away with saying. But after months of dancing around each other, it’s a wonder either of them hasn’t put themselves out there sooner. In fact, the timing hit Cas as rather perfect.

“Sorry,” the man with incredible green eyes says when Cas doesn’t immediately respond. “That was probably inappropriate.”

“No,” Cas cuts in, shaking his head. “Not to me.”

The man in the car relaxes against his seat. “Phew, thank goodness. Shit just flies outta my mouth sometimes and —”

“No,” Cas says again. He swallows and glances at the order number on the receipt. He isn’t even going to read it out loud. He knows this customer’s order. It’s the same every time: a raspberry pie shake and free fries for Free Fries Thursday.

He looks back up to see the man, who is silent, waiting for Cas to finish his sentence, probably. Cas presses his lips into a tight smile and hands him his order.

“I don’t mind it,” he continues, contemplating what work-friendly substitute to use for “shit.” Regular customer or not, he was not permitted to swear around them while in the drive-in uniform. “You can let… stuff… fly out of your mouth anytime.”

The man’s face relaxes into a smile. He replaces the bag and milkshake in his hands with two dollars. “Take it easy, Cas.”

The words feel comforting, familiar somehow. Cas smiles and nods as the nice man puts his car in reverse. He and his car disappear into the black of night before those words hit Cas again, like whiplash. They replay in his mind, accompanied by pink lips.

He clutches the two dollars in his hand, wrinkling them, before skating back inside. Apparently he’s a distraught mess, because Anna takes notice right away and rushes to him before he can clunk-walk to the counter.

“What’s wrong?” she asks in a worried tone. “Hot rod dude break up with you?”

“Anna —”

“I’m serious,” she insists. “Did he say something mean? I’ll kill him.”

“No, Anna —”

“You don’t have to take his order out any more, Cas. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone.”

The only thing Cas can focus on is the image in his mind of a pair of green eyes. He doesn’t see Anna practically vibrating with concern, or Samandriel putting a new order on the counter. All he sees is a sea of green. So, so much green.

And he can’t bring himself to discuss any of this with his workmates, because honestly, he’ll sound like a weirdo. So what if both of his crushes have mesmerizing green eyes? So what if they both drive classic cars? So what if they both say “Take it easy, Cas” and tip him two dollars on a four dollar order?

Maybe they’re related. They’ve got the same exact candy apple green eyes. But what of the identical cars? Brother and sister, perhaps. Or maybe they don’t know each other from Adam, and this is some cosmic joke to play on Cas’ apparent weakness for eyes that color. He hadn’t even known he had a thing for green eyes until this summer.

He spends the rest of his shift in a haze. Cas is falling for two people and he can’t figure out which one he likes more. And he can’t figure out if it’s because they both tip outrageously well or if he’s found himself wanting to be in each person’s passenger seat. Since when does he start giving a rip about what car a person drives? It’s all so confusing.

He wouldn’t choose one, at least not for now. He can’t. Tonight, all he can do is carhop the next order.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the last week of Free Fries Thursday. Cas is devastated. It’s the last day he will see either of his favorite customers, and it’s impossible to know which one will show for the “official” goodbye. Not that there will be one. Just a casual “have a great night” and “thank you” for the tip.

He really shouldn’t be this torn up about it, but he’s grown attached. Cas can’t think of another instance in all his cash-handling experience that he’s viewed customers with any emotion besides pure contempt, yet here he is crushing on not one, but two.

When he sees an order for fries and a raspberry pie shake on the screen, he feels his muscles tense up and breath halt in his throat. It’s his person.

“Thanks,” he says to Samandriel as he takes the order, ignoring Anna’s fretful glare. This is it. The end of summer and as he knows it, the end of an era.

He holds his breath as he pushes open the door and looks in the direction of the car sitting in Order 5547’s drive-in spot. It’s that black Chevy Impala, alright. And in the driver’s seat is the dream boat hunk with a jawline that could cut steel and the smile that made Cas weak in the knees.

He lets out the stale breath he’s holding. The sandy-haired man has one arm resting outside his window while gently tapping the frame, as if in deep thought. His classic rock is playing, just a tad bit too loud for a drive-in, as usual. It’s a sight Cas will miss sorely.

“Order 5547,” Cas says before he’s all the way into the spot. He skits to a halt in his roller-skates, lilting to the side in a little flourish that he hopes is more hot than dorky.

His co-favorite customer smiles. “I think by now we should be on a first-name basis, Cas.”

Oh. That is something people do, after all. Introduce themselves.

“I don’t know your first name,” Cas says. “But you know mine. That’s not very fair.”

“True,” the man replies. “Name’s Dean.”

“Dean,” he tries on his own tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

It’s a little strange introducing oneself if that’s the last interaction two plan on having. Does that mean this _isn’t_ the last interaction Dean plans on having with him? Cas hates to let his hopes soar so high when there’s the possibility to be wrong, but Dean is so kind and funny and handsome, it’s hardly fair to fight it.

“So Cas, here we are. End of summer,” Dean takes it upon himself to make conversation. Cas is glad of it. He hasn’t the faintest idea how interested strangers are supposed to go from strangers to… something more, especially romantically. “Got any plans?”

At first Cas shakes his head, then glances down at the car. He’s not one to talk about cars, that much is painfully obvious, but he knows Dean loves his. Thanks to the beautiful girl Cas also loves, he’s familiar with proper flirting etiquette in relation to them.

He lets the words go before his higher brain can stop him. “I’d still like to be that passenger of yours.” He swallows hard. “If the offer still stands.”

Dean breaks out in a grin. He looks like a kid on Christmas.

Wanting to impress him, Cas decides to take car talk a step further. How did the girl with the black car say it?

“How… many horses?” Cas asks nervously, certain he’s accidentally said “fuck you” in car.

If possible, Dean’s smile brightens. “Finally decided to take my advice, huh?”

Squinting, Cas takes a beat to second-guess himself. He might be equally in love with both people, but he’s sure he hasn’t mixed them up. “No,” he says, only partly to Dean and mostly to himself, “the blonde girl told me to say that.”

Dean licks his lip and taps on the car frame again, grinning like he knows an epic secret. “Cas,” he says with a short laugh, “that was me.”

“No,” Cas murmurs, searching deep in the recesses of his mind. Blonde hair. Shiny lips. Long lashes. “No, no that was —”

“Me,” Dean finishes, drawing Cas in with those gorgeous green eyes. “Cas, look at me. They’re both me.”

And just like that, Cas looks deep in those seas of green, and he gasps. Because _those are her eyes._ But they’re also _his_ eyes.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Her, me,” Dean points to himself. “Same person.”

“Same…” Cas begins, but pauses. Same car, same order, same time, same tip… Same eyes.

“Sorry buddy, I honestly thought you had already figured me out. You probably have several questions, amiright?”

Too mind-boggled to pinpoint even one of those several questions Dean appears to be referencing, but nevertheless intrigued, Cas nods.

“I’m slightly more fluid in the gender department than most,” Dean explains with a wave of his hand. “And I dress to match the occasion.”

“Oh,” Cas says thoughtfully. “Oh,” he repeats, this time the concept finally dawning on him. “Sometimes you’re a man.”

Dean nods.

“And other times,” Cas continues, mind drifting to the beautiful blonde with pink lips and those same evergreen eyes, “you’re a woman.”

“Bingo,” Dean says with a finger gun.

Cas lets out a relieved exhale. And here he was thinking for sure he had to choose between the two. He’s never been so glad to be wrong.

All his worries about forever missing the pretty lady melt away, as do those of saying goodbye to the handsome man in front of him now. These two people are one and the same. Cas doesn’t have to say goodbye to either one. Tomorrow he could be looking at her. Or him. Every day will be a wonderful surprise!

“Well?” Dean asks expectedly. Cas has been quiet since the big reveal, after all. He’s probably waiting for an invasive question. He probably expects them, somewhat.

But no. There’s only one question on Cas’ mind, and it’s not invasive at all. At least, it won’t be to this particular customer. After all, they’re on a first-name basis now.

“I don’t want tonight to be goodbye,” Cas blurts out. “Will you go out with me?”  
  


There are definitely about a million smoother ways to ask someone on a date, but he couldn’t think of a single one. By now Dean knows he’s not the most eloquent person, and it hasn’t bothered him up to this point.

Dean gives that winning smile. “Just tell me the time and place, Cas.”

A warmth fills his chest. He’s going on a date with his crush. And whether that shiny black car’s driver pulls up wearing flannel or lipstick, Cas will be equally ecstatic.

“You still haven’t told me your car’s horsepower,” Cas prods playfully.

Dean smirks. “275 horses, a Rochester 4-barrel OHV carburetor, and a 327-cubic-inch engine.”

Cas nods politely, at an absolute loss for what any of that means. It sounds impressive, he thinks. His uncle’s Mustang has a higher horsepower, but he has better manners than to bring that up to a man who’s so proud of his car, and a Chevy at that. Especially given the fact that he plans on dating said man.

“So you’re like, cool with it?” Dean asks. “The whole genderfluid thing?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Cas questions with furrowed brows. He glances up at Oh Sweet Heaven’s letter board, highlighting their current 2-for-1 deal. “That’s like… two genders for the price of one.”

Dean erupts in laughter. Cas is afraid he’s said something wrong and Dean’s covering for him with humor, but his smile when he finishes laughing says differently.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he replies after he’s gotten ahold of himself. “That’s… that’s actually hilarious, Cas.”

Cas blushes and fidgets with the change dispenser on his belt. He really needs to get back inside, but rush is over and Anna will understand. Hell, she’ll be foaming at the mouth for date information.

“Pick me up here tomorrow night,” he suggests. Dean already knows where it is, so he doesn’t have to bother with a strange address. “It’s my day off.”

“Deal,” Dean agrees. “See ya then, Cas.”

And as Dean drives away, Cas wonders if maybe the next time that car rolls in, he’ll see her. Or maybe Dean will be him that day. It will be a surprise, and Cas couldn’t wait to be with his classic rock-listening, classic car-driving date, in whatever form that amazing, green-eyed person took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading my story. I'm so grateful that you took time out of your day to escape with me to another place. This was fun! Leave a comment if you'd like to say hello and/or to give your thoughts!


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